


What a Reason for Waiting

by blasted_heath



Category: The Terror (TV 2018)
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Prompt Fill, is this a kissing fic?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-06
Updated: 2019-03-06
Packaged: 2019-11-12 18:03:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 742
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18015692
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blasted_heath/pseuds/blasted_heath
Summary: Fill for the "50 types of kisses" prompt on Tumblr, #28.





	What a Reason for Waiting

**Author's Note:**

> I really should make a collection of my short fics with Jethro Tull titles at this point.... although it's only two at the moment...it's a cycle that once started cannot be broken!

James was in uncommonly high spirits by the time they returned to the house in Blackheath. He took hold of Francis’s hand as they climbed the stairs, which was imprudent in a home not their own. He did not release it to part ways at his door, which was unwise. And without so much as a word, he pulled Francis into the room after him, which was as positively reckless as it was thrilling.

Closing the door tentatively behind him, Francis watched as James crossed the room. He was smiling at something unspoken, and more than usually careless about throwing his coat over the arm of a chair in the corner.

“I would call this unadvisable, James,” he began, his voice catching on the low level at which he spoke. “Is there a reason you—?”

“Not particularly.” James flung himself down on the bed, feet on the covers with his knees propped up. He rolled his head lazily to the side to look him in the eye. “Stay,” he pleaded, drawing the word out slightly too long, grinning. He stretched his fingers out over the covers next to him.

Francis rolled his eyes. “You seem pleased with yourself, don’t you,” he mused, going to sit on the bed where James’s hand had been, leaning against his legs. “Should have expected as much. The only thing everyone wanted to hear about all evening was the great James Fitzjames—even from me, I’ll have you know.”

James made a wordless sound of somewhat exaggerated disgust and swatted his hand at Francis’s knee. “Not so! The papers can’t even spell it correctly. _Fitz James_ —“ He swept his hand in a line in the air as if punctuating two separate words. “What even is that nonsense? I would much rather hear about _you_ , of course, Francis.” He brought his hand down and slipped it deftly around Francis’s waist, attempting weakly to pull him sideways.

“Now that’s a respectable name,” he went on, absently contemplating the canopy of the bed, fingers darting up and down the seam at the side of Francis’s waistcoat. “ _Commanding_ , even. You know you happen to be the second Francis Rawdon _anything_ I’ve served with—“

“Yes, I know,” he snorted a laugh, but leaned slightly closer as James’s fingers dug into his side again. “Apparently Chesney and I share our illustrious namesake. I like yours though. _James Fitzjames_.” He twitched his eyes upward as if considering it for the first time. “Surname one word of course, just to please you. Only means I am allowed to say _James_ twice as often.” He grinned and cocked a teasing eyebrow as he looked back down.

James’s eyes went wide. He was silent for a moment in apparent confusion, before tipping his head back and breaking into an enthusiastic fit of laughter.

“James!” Francis hissed, laying his fingertips over the man’s lips and forcing him into silence. “James,” he said a second time, with a knowing smile that caused James to sputter out a choked sound of mirth under his hand.

“You’ll alert the entire household,” he warned, now moving his hand against James’s jawline and running his thumb slowly along his lips.

“What, you think Ross minds?” He muttered as Francis traced the lines at the corner of his mouth. “Bugger him,” he added, perfectly matter-of-factly, and caught the tip of Francis’s thumb with his teeth.

But Francis’s hand stopped its motion at the implication, and suddenly James was laughing again.

His laugh became a startled moan in an instant, as Francis bent down and covered his mouth with his own. “I meant the servants, you fool,” he growled against his teeth, and silenced James’s next sound in a fervent kiss.

Francis’s hand now swept around to the back of James’s neck, and the other found his shoulder, gliding down to his wrist and bringing his hand up to lay against the pillows. He barely had time to push himself upwards, with a kiss to James's hand as he shifted to reposition his legs on the bed, before he was pulled down again with a fierce arm around his back.

 _James_ , he sighed, gently against his lips as he settled, secure in the firm compass of James's embrace.

Then, _James_ again, low in his throat, dragging the word along the man’s neck.

And again, a dozen times again, and whispered in adoration in his ear, before returning to catch James’s ragged sigh with his lips.

**Author's Note:**

> This is the song I took the title from. "Reasons for Waiting" by Jethro Tull. This is 100% a fitzier song! 
> 
> What a sight for my eyes  
> To see you in sleep.  
> Could it stop the sun rise  
> Hearing you weep?  
> You're not seen, you're not heard  
> But I stand by my word.  
> Came a thousand miles  
> Just to catch you while you're smiling.  
> What a day for laughter  
> And walking at night.  
> Me following after, your hand holding tight.  
> And the memory stays clear with the song that you hear.  
> If I can but make  
> The words awake the feeling.  
> What a reason for waiting  
> And dreaming of dreams.  
> So here's hoping you've faith in impossible schemes,  
> That are born in the sigh of the wind blowing by  
> While the dimming light brings the end to a night of loving.


End file.
